Unease
by Silverblind
Summary: There always was an uneasy feeling between them, although neither knew if it was for better or worse. BATMANXCATWOMAN. Rated T for violence.
1. A Fortunate Accident

**Been a long time since I uploaded anything...**

**I've always wanted to write a BatCat story but I never knew how to handle it. I hope I won't disppoint with this attempt.**

**This story is already completed, it will be updated and finished in the next few days.**

* * *

At first it had been nothing more than a sharp pain that was quickly dulled by the thrill of the chase. As cries of alarm rose behind her, she clutched her prize to her chest, the dull throbbing in her calf nothing more than an annoyance that forced her to limp away pathetically instead of climbing high up and vanishing quickly as she would usually have done. It was all she could do to clamber onto a low rooftop and crouch into the shadows as the inmates pursuing her zoomed past, screaming insults and threats at the top of their lungs. She took a moment to calm her breathing, the pain in her leg growing sharper and sharper as she did so. Discarding her newly-acquired equipment to the side, she examined her leg. What she found did not please her: a bullet fragment had found its way deep into her flesh, and the wound bled profusely from her previous exertion. She ripped a glove off to apply pressure to the wound, gritting her teeth against the pain as she did so. She had been careless: in her haste to go seek Ivy and set her plan in motion, she had not thoroughly inspected her surroundings, and someone had to have seen her slip by, for when she had left her apartment after collecting her gears, a group of inmates had been waiting for her, one of them holding an imposing gun she guessed he had not found by chance lying on the side of the road. She thought she would be able to slip by unnoticed… but she did have the bad habit of underestimating her foes.

She had nothing on her that would allow for the effective treatment of a bullet wound, and she dared not go back to her complex, expecting several inmates to be tapping their foot just waiting for her to come poking around again. With a grimace of pain she lifted her leg and let it rest on a nearby ventilation shaft, hoping to reduce the flow of blood as she wracked her brain for a solution. For now, there would be no gallivanting about Arkham City to try and find medical supplies or even go to the medical center without running into several inmates who would be all too happy to find a subdued Catwoman who could barely run, let alone fight. The bright red puddle of her blood slowly snaked away from her as she evaluated her dwindling options, her palm still pressed against the wound but not enough to completely stem the flow.

"Need a hand?"

She had been so distracted that the voice startled her, but she did her best to hide it, her signature seductive smile settling automatically on her lips as she shifted slightly to face the newcomer.

"What have I done to suddenly rank over the Joker in your order of priorities?" she said. She had willed her voice to sound playful, as usual, but the words had come out strained, something she was sure he had not failed to notice.

His blue eyes met hers briefly before they settled back onto her leg, ignoring her quip. He stepped out of the shadows to kneel near her.

"What happened?" he asked, brushing her pale hand away from the wound to inspect it for himself. He did not seem pleased by what he was seeing, but again, it may just have been his usual scowl.

"And here I thought you were the greatest detective in the world," she replied. "Or is that title undeserved?"

This time she was positive he scowled as he reached into his belt, his other hand coming to replace hers over the wound.

"I'll have to remove the bullet," he said coldly, withdrawing a small pair of forceps, disinfectant and bandages from a pouch. She instinctively tried to pull her leg away, but it was easy for him to hold her in place. The bleeding had almost stopped under the pressure of his larger, stronger palm, although pain still shot cruelly through her calf.

"I'm a big girl," she said, all playfulness vanished from her tone. "I can take care of myself."

"Obviously not," he snapped back immediately.

For once she did not answer, and she let him work in silence. She did not protest when he ripped a small hole in her suit to expose the wound, the caked blood flaking away as he cleaned it the best he could. She hissed quietly as the alcohol sizzled into her wound.

"I have no anesthetics," he said after a moment of silence as he removed his gloves.

"Do it," she said without hesitating. The sooner she would be free of that bullet, the sooner she would be free of him. She did not need him to discover her plan for the night.

"I have no tourniquet either," he added. "This will have to do."

He ripped a piece of cloth from the edge of his already tattered cape, tying it tightly around her thigh before taking up the forceps. She settled against the cold stone wall at her back, bracing herself for the pain she knew would come and promising to a God she did not believe in that she would not scream.

She screamed.

She screamed and she sobbed and she cursed, grasping the Dark Knight's shoulder with a gloved hand as the bare fingers of the other came to cover her mouth when the distant calls of inmates looking for the source of her screams were heard. She could feel her claws scratching deep into the padding of his shoulder but he did not seem to notice or care.

Finally it was over, after what seemed to be hours but truly could not have been more than a few minutes. The bullet fragment Batman held to the light was no larger than a tack, and she could hardly believe such a small thing had caused her such great pain. The wound was shallower than she had thought had first, the fragment having hardly made its way under the skin. She was barely aware of Batman wrapping her calf in sterile gauze before he rose, abandoning the bloodied medical supplies there as he gathered her in his arms. And just like that they were flying.

The realization that she was sailing through the air in the Dark Knight's arms pulled her from the haze in which she had slipped quickly enough, and although she refused to show her nervousness at being so high above the ground without full control of her movement, she pulled herself as tightly as she could against her companion. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop with ease, carrying her as if she weighted nothing. Had this happened in any other circumstances, she would have laughed, jested or even fought, but for now she was content to allow her head to loll against the Batman's shoulder, letting him carry her across the mega-prison. Her eyes fluttered shut.

* * *

"Selina."

She may have fallen asleep, or she may have fainted briefly, it made no difference. When she opened her eyes again, she had been laid down on a cold but soft surface. Batman's face hovered over hers, and she was puzzled at his presence until he flashed a light in her eyes, asking her how she felt, reminding her of the blazing pain in her calf she had successfully ignored for the first few seconds of her wakened state. She had no strength left in her to defy him as she answered his questions, only wanting to fall asleep again. Her leg throbbed excruciatingly, the only thing keeping her aware of her surroundings as the last of her energy drained out of her. At last Batman seemed satisfied, and he moved away toward a shattered window. A booted foot came to rest on the windowsill, the Dark Knight of Gotham apparently ready to fade back into the night as the cold wind came sweeping in the room, but something held him back. He turned back toward her, his hard, blue eyes once again on her, and for the first time she felt vulnerable in her revealing suit. She felt naked and weak as his cold stare met hers, but it did not frighten her as it should have. Of course, she had heard her share of discussing remarks and rape threats, had felt the eyes of countless men raking over her body, and that had been her goal; to distract and disarm, for men to take her for the harlot she wasn't instead of the skilled fighter she was so that she might take them unaware. But as Batman finally turned away, the feeling of vulnerability vanishing along with him through the window, she knew that what she had felt was something dangerous, desperate and most certainly unrequited, something that people like him, like _them_, could not be allowed to let grow, something that, with one misplaced word or stare, could send both of them to their graves.

And for that, Catwoman buried this feeling as deep as she could, far inside her mind, something to be forgotten and left to rot, so that it would never see the light of day again.


	2. The Bat Rages Still

She slept for a few hours, and when she woke she felt strong enough to rise and try a few cautious steps. The pain was still very real, but she could stand and walk and run. Had she been in any other situation, she would have rested for the rest of the night, but not today. Not this night. Arkham City was ripe for the plunder, and who better to reap its treasures than the cat burglar herself?

Batman had left her in a derelict, isolated apartment complex in the Amusement Mile. She could see the the building's lower levels disappeared in the cold dark waters of the bay. Her whip was sagely coiled around the pouch containing her equipment next to the bed on which she had been sleeping, along with her missing glove. The room was bare but clean, something extremely surprising in Arkham City. It was empty save for the low, makeshift bed, a chair, and a desk. Maps and newspaper articles were pinned to a board above the desk, and upon inspection they seemed to be all kinds of reports on Arkham City. Two maps depicted Gotham city and a third detailed every corner of the prison. She took the latter but left the rest, folding it carefully before tucking it into her belt. The desk had drawers, but they were locked and she had no time to waste at uncovering what would certainly be more boring papers and such. Slipping on her glove and fastening the rest of her equipment at her waist, she tried a few acrobatics, and she found the wound did not impair her as much as she had feared, that is, if she ignored the ache. It slowed her down, but she had no choice but to bear it. She leapt out the window, hoping against hope that she would be able to stand her ground.

As she climbed and jumped, her whip crackling at the frigid air, she soon learned to ignore the white-hot pain in her calf, although sweat still beaded on her brow from the exertion despite the cold weather. Luckily, Batman had left her fairly close to Poison Ivy's hideout, and so she had only to take a few hypnotized inmates down to access the lair. Catwoman pushed the door open, frowning as the pungent smell of exotic flowers and rotting pumpkins assailed her senses.

"You should not have come here!" a voice hissed from amidst the leaves and flowers of the room. It would have been intimidating to anyone else, but Selina stood her ground. She stepped forward, unfazed by the barely veiled threat lurking beneath the words.

"I just came here to talk," said she, her attention fixed on the particularly luxuriant array of plants and flowers before her. She saw too late the vine creeping toward her. The plant snagged her feet, hanging her upside down as another, thicker vine, armed with a menacing barb, came to hover before her eyes. The leaves and flowers parted, finally reavealing Poison Ivy. Her eyes shone with fury, and as she came prowling closer Catwoman could see more vines creeping in behind the former biologist. She crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest.

"I can't believe you still haven't forgiven me," she said simply, barely veiling her annoyance.

"You killed them!" Ivy spat, and Selina could feel the vine tightening around her legs, sending another wave of pain from her calf through her body. "My poor, poor babies… But now that you're here, I will avenge them. You will die, slowly, painfully, just as they have. Oh, yes. I thought I would have to hunt you down, but you came to me. The cat is trapped."

Catwoman sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Listen, Red-"

"Your blood will turn to sap," Pamela cut her off,"your flesh to bark. You feel feel yourself fading as spores slowly choke you, and only then will you die."

"That sounds lovely, Pam," Catwoman answered. "But I didn't come here for this."

"Be silent!" Poison Ivy hissed. The barbed vine hovered closer to Catwoman's face. She turned away slightly.

"I'm planning on robbing Strange's vault," she said. "I need your help."

"And why would I do that?" Ivy asked as she walked back to her vegetal seat, reclining amidst the flowers and leaves. "I have you now. You can't escape."

'_That's where you're wrong'_, Catwoman wanted to say, but she held her tongue. While escaping from Ivy would usually not be a problem, she could not be sure to succeed with the added impediment of her wound.

"What do you value more?" she asked instead. "Your revenge? Or the last of your precious flowers? That rose you worked so hard to save?"

Pamela's reaction was instantaneous. She jumped back to her feet from her seat amongst her plants, her eyes wide with hope but also distrust.

"I knew there was one left," she began quietly. "Where is it? Did you hide it?"

"I don't have it," Selina answered simply, showing her empty palms. "But I know _where _it is."

"Tell me!" Poison Ivy cried. "Tell me or I swear I will make you talk – "

"It's in the vault," Catwoman replied. Or so she had hear from a patrol of TYGER guards. "Along with what I want. Help me reach it, and I'll save your precious flower."

"You will?" the other said. The distrust was still plain on her face.

"I will. I promise," she said.

The vine coiled around her legs suddenly loosened its hold as the one hovering before her eyes moved away. She landed on her hands and swiftly rose to her feet, ignoring the stab of pain in her calf as she did so.

"Do we have a deal, then?" she asked as she brushed imaginary dust off herself.

"We do," answered Poison Ivy. "Leave now, before I change my mind."

Catwoman did not wait around for her to do so. She slipped out the door and slinked away quickly into the night. Only when she was safely away did she allow herself a moment of rest for her heartbeat to slow down. The cold air of the night nipped at the exposed skin of her chest, and she shivered. She was uncoiling her whip to leap away toward Park Row when she heard something that gave her pause.

"I saw Batman near the G.C.P.D. building earlier. Man, he looked like shit!"

She crept closer to the edge of the rooftop on which she was perched. The two inmates were slowly walking the length of a broken section of the Amusement Mile, masks hiding their features and pipes hanging from their hands.

"Serves him right," the other answered. "You think he got beat up or something?"

"Nah, Sam was with me, and he says the Bat looked a bit like the Joker in the beginning," said the first. "You know, a few weeks after the Asylum? With the veins and all?

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I remember," answered the second. He visibly shivered. "Man, that gave me the creeps. I mean, more than usual when it comes to the Joker."

They both laughed, and Selina decided she had heard enough. She leapt away toward the Church, the words echoing in her mind despite her efforts to forget them. It was nothing more than a rumour. Batman may very well be as sound as he had been when she had last seen him but a few hours ago. She paused on the roof of a tall building in Park Row. She should go help him… after all, he _had_ helped her earlier. But there was no telling where he was right now, and she had a vault to plunder. And even if she found him, what could she do? Everyone knew of the Joker's failed attempts to cure himself, with the various corpses dressed as doctors that had turned up in Arkham City almost every week since the prison's inauguration. And if the inmates were right about Batman's mystery illness being the same as the Clown Prince's, it would end very, very badly.

Deciding that Ivy would not act within the hour and that she might now where Batman was, Catwoman turned back to the Amusement Mile, intent on finding the apartment again. Cursing her sudden concern for the Bat that had proved to be nothing but trouble, she leapt.

It was hardly a challenge for her to find the room again as the memory was still fresh in her mind, but when she slipped through the window she thought she might have the wrong place. Where everything had been orderly before, the bed was now overturned, and the chair had been thrown across the room, smashed as if in anger against the wall. Hunched over the desk was a tall figure she knew all too well, the cape hanging from his shoulders even more tattered than it had been when she had last seen it, the grey Kevlar of his armor bearing new scratches that had nothing to do with her claws.

"Selina," said Batman. He straightened but did not face her. "How is your leg?"

"Well enough," she answered as she gingerly stepped down from the windowsill. The tension in the air crackled around her, so she stayed silent and waited for him to speak.

"I see you've helped yourself to my map," he finally said.

"I did," she said playfully, sauntering closer. "If you want it back, though, you'll have to come and take it."

He visibly tensed as she neared him, and his voice was but a growl when he spoke:

"Don't come any closer, Selina."

"Is it true, then?" she asked, stopping a few feet away from him as she decided to confront him about what she had heard. "You're sick?"

"This doesn't concern you," he snapped back.

He still had not faced her. His rebuke reminded her of something Hugo Strange had told her during the interviews he insisted on having when she had first come to Arkham City. _He hasn't confided in you because he doesn't trust you_. The words still hurt as they flashed through her mind, and as a result her reply came out more hostile than she had originally intended.

"Your answer speaks for itself," she spat. She crossed her arms, refusing to look at him. "Is there a cure?"

"I think you should leave," he ground out between clenched teeth. Distracted by her thoughts, she failed to see the dangerous tightening of his fists at his sides. "Now."

_Because he doesn't trust you._

"I only want to help."

"You can't."

_He doesn't trust you._

"Surely there _is _something I can do."

"No. Leave."

_Trust._

"But - "

"I don't need your meddling, Selina!" he roared as he swirled around, his outburst making her gaze snap back to him. Shocked as she was by his sudden, uncharacteristic explosion that she did not immediately react to the sight of his ravaged face. He was usually calm and composed, even in the most desperate situations, but now his broad shoulders shook with fury and his fevered gaze boiled with anger, making her hand hover instinctively closer to her whip, although she could not help but take a step back as he stepped forward menacingly. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she was afraid of him.

He shouldered past her, and she could only watch as he leapt away into the night, soon swallowed by the shadows.

_He hasn't confided in you because he doesn't trust you. And it hurts, doesn't it?_

It did. The realization that Strange's words were true tore at her heart as she stood frozen where he had left her. All the reasons she had to distrust men came back to crash over her like a tidal wave: her father, the sneers, the jeers, the hungry looks, the grabby hands, the lies, the pain, the chuckles, the screams, the growls, the hits –

But Batman had never been like _them_. But a few hours ago he had removed a bullet from her leg and bandaged the wound, even carrying her to safety where most would have left her to freeze and bleed.

And she had –

No. She would not allow herself to even think of it. _'He is spoken for,' _she thought as she finally shook herself from her torpor. _'He must be.'_

Maybe Batman was, after all, just like any other man.

The thought rang hollow in her mind as she left the room to go back towards Park Row and the riches of Strange's vault. How _could_ he be like the others? She had seen him do so many things that no one but he would have done. She had seen him show kindness and mercy where others would show only scorn and cruelty, courage when all would have ran. But she still could not shake the vision of his rage-filled eyes from her memory, the menacing curve his mouth had held bringing too many bad memories forth from the confines of her mind where she had buried them.

She had not expected him to be perfect, of course. Everyone had their dark side. But still, for a split second she could almost see his hand rise in a stinging slap, his mouth open to let a string of insults worse than punches through his lips, just like that other man had done, so many years ago, when –

A rumbling deep in the earth beneath her feet prevented her from treading down that dark path, and she was thankful for it. Those years were long gone, she had to remind herself as she hurried toward the vault. Now she was the Cat, not the Mouse. No one would ever hurt her again.

She perched on the corner of a nearby rooftop and was surprised to see that only three men had been dispatched to investigate the disturbance. Surely Strange had to have his hands full with Batman. Good. She was not sure how many TYGER guards she could handle at the same time with her wounded leg. Three seemed an acceptable challenge at the moment.

Pouncing from her perch, she knocked the first of them off his feet. The two others, startled, had no time to dodge her booted foot, and they too hit the ground with her well-placed kicks. By then the first was already rising, but she quickly sent him back to the wet, hard tar of the street with a punch that resulted in a resounding _crack_. That was sure to leave a mark. She hoped it would.

In the meantime the other two had clambered back to their feet, and they came at her with gloved fists from her right and her left. She dodged and countered one's attack, cracking her whip at the other's head before clawing at his face fiercely. As she did so, however, she did not see that the other one had already stood up again, and she was too late to dodge the oncoming blow. As the first man's head hit the wall – hard -, she felt a blow to the back of her knees, the flare of pain in her calf as she fell forward, momentarily incapacitating her. It was all the TYGER needed, however, to grasp her shoulder, spinning her so that she faced him. His forearm slammed into her throat, pinning her panting and sputtering to the dirty wall behind her as his fist rose. She clawed at the thick coat covering his arm, trying in vain to regain her senses as her breathing became more and more labored. All she could see of his face were his eyes: black, fathomless pits, empty and cold. There was no hatred nor anger there, only darkness, as if he was not truly there, as if _something else _controlled his body in his stead. Black dots began to dance before her eyes as she tried a last time for a gulp of air.

The fist colliding with her cheek was enough to allow her to suck in a bit of air, and although the hit was sure to leave a bruise she was grateful for it, as it would allow her to escape. Ignoring the pain in her calf, she kicked savagely at his knee, and the sharp _crack_ of breaking bones rang out, followed by a howl of pain. It was his turn to fall to the ground, and she quickly sent him into oblivion with a well-aimed punch. She could feel blood trickling down her leg, and the soiled bandage she saw around her calf confirmed her fears. She had no time to rest, however. Searching the TYGERs, she found a small first-aid kit, and quickly wrapped a new, clean bandage over her wound, fastening the kit to her belt before lifting the manhole cover leading to the vault. Nothing mattered now but to get out of this hell as soon as possible.


End file.
